


filling up her flowerbeds

by SeaWallFics



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Romance, Series of One Shots, hints of sexy times, pinch of angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:22:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26290327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaWallFics/pseuds/SeaWallFics
Summary: A series of unrelated one shots as prompted by readers. If you like tropes (as I do), you'll like this series. Give it a try?
Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press
Comments: 51
Kudos: 206





	1. filling up her flowerbeds

**Author's Note:**

> Business woman Christen x Gardener Tobin

Time certainly flies when you're having fun, Christen notices when she checks her watch. She's been home for over twenty minutes and she hasn't even taken her heels off, distracted by the prettiness kneeling down in her backyard, dressed in a halter top and short denim dungarees that look a little tight around tan thighs.

Christen feels no remorse while she blatantly checks out the absolute snack of a woman filling up her flower beds. With the California sun beating down on bare shoulders, a sheen of sweat shimmers against bronzed skin and Christen feels the inexplicable urge to run her fingers up and down the delicious swell of the woman's deltoid muscles. Maybe get a taste in as well, she considers while subconsciously gnawing on her bottom lip.

She's pulled from her daydream rather harshly when the lead character jumps to her feet, amused brown eyes finding her own through the thick pane of glass separating the kitchen from the patio. Even though she's caught red handed, Christen can't find it in her to turn away. With a sly smile and a raised eyebrow, she invites the other woman to look her fill as well, the invitation immediately and thoroughly accepted. It's quite the confidence boost, she realizes while appreciative eyes rove the small expanses of skin displayed by her work clothes. She feels hot all over, a pretty blush staining the skin of her already too warm cheeks. Christen's parched and the tall drink of water across the patio - the one watching her like she wants to devour her - looks perfectly capable of quenching her thirst. After ditching her heels, she slides the door open, stepping onto the patio in bare feet. She's still the sole focus of her admirer's attention, a feeling she could get used to just fine, she admits.

"Hey there," Christen addresses the sweat-slicked gardener, green eyes taking in the tiny drops of perspiration sliding down a wonderfully chiseled jawline. She balls her hands into fists to stop herself from swiping a thumb along those divinely carved features, wanting nothing more than to touch this woman's sunkissed cheekbones or the cute little laugh lines around her pretty eyes. She's met with a bashful smile and reddened cheeks and Christen can't help but think how much younger she looks up close. Old enough to flirt with, mind you, but younger than her own 31 by a couple of years, for sure. 

"How does a bottle of ice cold water sound?" Christen offers, moving closer while she speaks, her proximity triggering the most interesting of reactions. It starts with the widening of those sparkling peepers now trained on the V of her sleeveless silk blouse and followed by the distinct gulping sound of a dry swallow. Stopping inches away from the now breathless creature in front of her - pulse racing - they finally establish eye contact. Tension crackles between them. Christen can't quite figure out who's the hunter and who's the prey. They're both equally hungry for something more it seems and something more will definitely happen.

With a nod of her head and a grateful smile, the landscaper accepts the proffered refreshment, sending Christen on her way back to the kitchen. Her retreating figure draws ample attention, noticeable in the reflection of the sliding door she's about to open. She practically feels the intensity of that stare settle around the sway of her hips and the roundness of her backside. She can't resist checking back over her shoulder, catching the unassuming woman in the act of eyeballing her assets. Without a hint of embarrassment those wandering eyes briefly meet her own before tracking their way down her body again. She's a confident one. Christen likes it.

On her way to the fridge, Christen decides on a detour to her bedroom to change out of her work clothes. She's curious to see how something 'a little more comfortable' will be received by the wet dream incarnate currently lounging in one of her patio chairs. She changes into a red bikini set that barely covers all the x-rated parts, rubbing coconut oil into her skin to protect herself against the unforgiving midday sunshine. Normally, in this kind of weather, she'd put her hair up in a bun. Massaging another palmful of oil into her loose curls, she decides to leave it down, having a feeling it'll please the woman waiting for her downstairs. Not wanting to seem too eager to expose herself, she puts on a white lace cover up. She doesn't expect to be wearing it long, but there's nothing wrong with leaving a few details to one's imagination, is there?

Skipping down the stairs, Christen can barely contain her excitement. Anticipation courses through her veins at breakneck speed, heating her up from the inside out. With the promised beverage in hand, she finally finds her way back outside. With the door sliding open, the slouching figure bolts upright, head swiveling Christen's way while she steps onto the patio.

There's another moment of stillness where Christen watches being watched. She doesn't even get the chance to hand over the bottle water before she finds herself with her back against the window of the patio door, the contrasting heat of the sweaty gardener's body pressed against her front. Lips at her neck, fingers circling her wrists, hips pushing her against tempered glass with fevered thrusts. She mewls when teeth repeatedly nip at her pulse point and she moans when strong hands raise her arms over her head. Christen lets her head fall to the side, making room for the talented mouth sucking at the delicate skin of her neck. Her bikini bottoms are ruined already, slick with want for this brazen woman feasting on her willing body.

Deft fingers then push the cover up from her shoulders, baring her bikini clad frame to darkening brown eyes. "Fuck, you're so beautiful," she hears whispered against her right clavicle before teeth leave a stinging bite at the bone. Christen _knows_ she'll find the marks there tomorrow. There's a string of words she doesn't register, too caught up in her own arousal to hear her praises sung by the very same lips that slide down from her jugular notch to her sternum, pressing kisses into tan skin along the way. She cries out in pleasure when wet heat suddenly surrounds one of her still covered nipples. Sharp teeth scrape at the now damp lycra, barely catching the tip of an aroused breast. Christen's quaking, knees about to buckle, but work-roughened hands seem to know exactly what she needs when she feels them come to rest at her hips.

_"Tobin!"_

When the mouth at her chest starts suckling in earnest, the name falls off her lips in a plea and then everything grinds to a halt. It takes her a few very confusing seconds to figure out why they've stopped, but the smug face inches away from her own tells her exactly what's what.

"I win," Tobin gloats with a ridiculously wide smile. "I _knew_ you'd be the first to crack!"

Closing her eyes in defeat, Christen drops her head to Tobin's naked shoulder. She was so sure she'd win this little bet, but her wife knows her better than she knows herself. In all honesty, they've dabbled in roleplay before, but it's always Christen breaking character and almost always by calling out Tobin's name when things get particularly overwhelming.

"You suck," Christen pouts against soft skin, pressing closer to her wife's familiar frame.

"I know," Tobin smirks, wrapping Christen up in her long arms, "and it makes you lose your mind every single time. Now, pay up, Pressi!"

When Christen lifts her head she's met with closed eyes and puckered lips. With a massive eye roll, she kisses her wife's lips in mock exasperation, remembering the terms of their little bet. Winner gets their every need met. Christen can't wait.


	2. welcome home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tobin returns home after deployment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was prompted by someone to write this, but I can't remember who it was. If you're that person, please let me know. Thank you!

When the C-5M Super Galaxy starts descending, the troops inside the giant aircraft start gathering their books and playing cards, eager to pack up and finally set foot on US soil again. Of all the soldiers on board, there's one in particular who cannot wait for touchdown. Her name is Tobin Heath and she's been on tour for almost nine months, her longest one yet and she's dying to get home to her wife. She's spent the past fifteen hours annoying her seat mates with the restless bouncing of her knees and/or murmuring prayers under her breath, too wired to sleep.

It'll probably take her week or so to get back into some sort of pattern where sleeping's concerned, knowing jet lag and bad dreams will keep her up for at least a couple of days. It's been a rough visit abroad, but they're all in one piece and that makes coming home that much sweeter. Knowing her entire squad will make it off the plane by themselves instead of being carried out in coffins makes up for the horrors they've seen, though she knows a mandatory meeting with her usual military counselor has already been scheduled. It's routine by now and she goes willingly, knowing it'll help her process her deployment. That'll all come later, though. 

For now, Tobin's thankful to return stateside, something she's failed to mention to a certain dark haired, bright eyed physiotherapist, wanting her homecoming to be a bit of a surprise. She's two weeks early and she'll probably get scolded for not telling her spouse, but opportunity knocked and Tobin welcomed it in. Christen will probably forgive her, she grins to herself.

On the bus taking them to the terminal, Private First Class Emily Sonnett drops into the seat beside her. She's a spirited one with her sparkling eyes and ever present grin and Tobin loves her like she does her sisters.

"Almost home, Staff Sergeant," Sonnett chirps in her ear. "Did you call your old lady yet, telling her to "prepare" for your imminent arrival?" Tobin groans, dropping her head into her hands with a blush. How do air quotes immediately make something so seemingly innocent sound so scandalous? Sex isn't a comfortable topic for her in general, but discussing sex with her wife with someone who _isn't_ her wife, is just never gonna happen. Emily knows this. It's why she keeps teasing her superior officer - off the clock of course - with suggestive remarks and salacious expressions. Tobin doesn't really mind, offering herself up as a willing victim of her squad's good natured ribbing if it means they'll have something to laugh about in the most dreadful of circumstances. She considers it part of good leadership.

"You're the _worst_ , Sonny! Consider it none of your business and move on to other topics. That's a direct order!" Tobin tries to look stern while she says it, but Emily's already poking fun at her with a stern look of her own, making ridiculous faces at her superior officer. In the laughter that follows, Tobin suddenly feels a little lighter. She looks Emily in the eye, finding one of the Private's hands with one of her own, squeezing it softly in silent gratitude. Emily always helps her to release pressure before the important moments, whether in battle or back home. Tobin is lucky to have her as an army buddy, but having Sonny as a _friend_ is a blessing from above. She will never take it for granted. Tobin wants her to know that.

The sweet little moment passes when the bus pulls to a stop, both Tobin and Emily grabbing their gear and rushing down the steps along with the other soldiers ambling for the terminal. Tobin watches as families reunite, overwhelmed and grateful. It makes her want to get to Christen even faster and she's starting to rethink her bright idea of keeping her wife in the dark about her extended leave. She could've had her in her arms already, darn it!

Emily's off as soon as she sees Lindsey waving at her from the back of the crowd, shouting a 'See ya soon!' at Tobin while she pushes through the throng of emotional family members and significant others. Tobin shakes her head with a smile, following the little dynamo with her eyes until she's wrapped up in the arms of her crying girlfriend. With a full heart she makes her way outside, hoping to find a quick ride home. Christen should be getting up right about now and sharing a shower sounds like a good way to celebrate four weeks of leave.

She catches a ride home with a pilot named Vlatko. She doesn't really know him, but he lives nearby and she'd be a fool to turn down such a sweet offer. He's a nice guy - very talkative - who loves to laugh. Maybe she'll invite him and his family to the next barbecue. She'll talk to Christen about it when the topic comes up. Right now, her attention is needed elsewhere.

Coming home after being away so long is always a double edged sword for Tobin. There's a small part of her that wonders why Christen puts up with her crazy job and the large amounts of time spent away from each other. Tobin chose this way of living, but Christen has never really had a say in the matter since they'd met with Tobin already enlisted. She's always a little afraid of growing apart, of coming home to a wife who's decided she no longer wants to be an army wife. They're her own insecurities, Tobin knows. She feels guilty for saying goodbye for months at a time, then to leave for a location she's not allowed to share and she knows Christen worries. The tears usually come at night, when she thinks the soldier's asleep. Playing possum, Tobin lets her wife work through her own insecurities, picking up on hopes of starting a family and fears of losing Tobin before they even have the chance. She wants it too. The family Christen whispers about at night. It's the reason her next tour will be her last. One more deployment and then she's done. They'll have that talk as soon as possible, _if_ she ever makes it inside the house.

Huffing at her own dawdling, she finally makes her way up the front steps, debating whether or not to ring the bell. Deciding it'll ruin the surprise - and she's already gotten this far - she stealthily unlocks the door before pushing it open. She listens for the familiar sounds of Christen puttering around the house, but she's met with complete silence. Closing the door, Tobin drops her duffel bag before moving down the hallway, confused and a little concerned. When she reaches the bottom of the stairs, she picks up on familiar voices. Ashlyn and Ali are here? And why is everyone upstairs? What the hell is going on? Sneaking her way up the steps, Tobin picks up on even more familiar voices, halting her in her tracks. It takes her a few seconds to place the sounds, but when she does, her trademark thousand watt smile lights up her face. She knows what Christen's watching on their bedroom television and the schizophrenic feeling of her heart breaking while it expands with love leaves her standing breathless on the seventh step of the stairs. It occurs to her that she'll probably sleep on the couch tonight if she storms into the bedroom of a woman who thinks she's home alone, scaring her half to death. She didn't think this through. It's a recurring theme in their relationship. Normally a level headed individual, Tobin seems to lose the ability to practice common sense in any and all situations that involve her wife, i.e. her current predicament.

Listening in on the movie Christen's watching, Tobin deduces there's about ten minutes of footage left. She parks her behind on the tenth step, unsure of how to proceed. Unsurprisingly, Christen's way ahead of her. Hearing the familiar 'pings' of two incoming texts, Tobin pulls her phone from the side pocket of her khaki's.

 **[** Do you remember the cameras we had installed before your deployment? **]**

 **[** Worth every penny. Just saw a 5ft5 hoodlum sneaking in. Wearing fatigues. Looks kinda familiar. **]**

Tobin groans. She completely forgot and now her surprise is ruined. Getting up, she takes the last few steps up the stairs with heavy feet, making her presence known. In a whirlwind of motion, the bedroom door swings open and 130 pounds of pure happiness wraps itself around Tobin's torso, the impact forcing the soldier back a step or two. Not wanting to risk tumbling down the stairs, Tobin returns the embrace just as tightly, walking the both of them into the bedroom. With the utmost care, she carries Christen to the bed, scooting in right behind her the second she lets go, fatigues and all. They're both crying, relieved to be in each other's arms again as the wet patches on each of their shirts grow steadily bigger.

Pulling back, Christen's eyes search Tobin's before taking in the rest of her tan features, checking for scrapes or bruises, new scars to get used to. There are none and once she's looked her fill, her left hand retraces the path her eyes just traveled. Tobin presses her face into the softness of Christen's hand, tears still dripping from tired eyes. It's been over two hundred fifty days since sharing a bed and despite all her other desires - a shower, a sandwich, making love to her wife - all Tobin wants to do is take a nap with the familiar warmth of Christen's naked body pressed against her own. Hoisting herself out of bed, she takes off her boots and pants before pulling on the zipper of her jacket. With her back to the bed, she hears Christen get up to close the heavy blackout curtains, plunging the room into darkness.

Next thing Tobin knows, her wife's in front of her, warm hands working their way under the cheap fabric of her t-shirt, pulling the white cotton up then off, leaving Tobin in a military issue bra and boyshorts. Making quick work of those herself, Tobin then crawls to the middle of the bed, waiting for Christen to strip bare and join her. When that moment comes, Tobin can't help but start crying again as Christen lies down on top of her, her weight the perfect security blanket. It's the anchor Tobin needs to get a grip on her emotions. She's exhausted and the rest of the world will have to wait until after her nap. She has everything she needs right here, pushing her into the memory foam mattress. She's home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a few more of these left to edit, but I'm open to new prompts/suggestions. Make it as tropey as you want and I'll see what I can come up with. You're welcome to leave your prompts in a comment or to come find me on Tumblr and drop them in my ask box. Thank you!


	3. what happens is this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tobin's new boss looks kinda familiar ...

It's funny how coincidence works. Tobin isn't supposed to be here tonight, tomorrow's job interview the reason why she'd planned to be in bed by ten. Yet here she is, on a Sunday night, staring at the cutest girl ever while _trying_ not to be too obvious about it. She's not sure it's working, because there's nothing inconspicuous about her behavior. Even the bartender rolled her eyes at her just now, making ik glaringly obvious that people notice her gawking. Time to go then. Besides, the object of her fascination hadn't looked Tobin's way the entire night. Wishful thinking had kept her glued to her bar stool — hoping for eye contact — but the girl and her friend seemed to only have eyes for each other. Maybe, Tobin thinks with a heavy heart, they're more than friends. With that entirely depressing thought she drops a twenty on the counter and pulls on her jacket. When she chances one last glance at the 'cutest girl ever', she's shocked to find amused green eyes looking back at her. She freezes. Talk about a hard chill.

Now, there haven't been many moments of uncertainty in Tobin Heath's life, but this is one of them. She feels pinned into place where she stands, gazing back into those incredible eyes, the process of putting one foot in front of the other too difficult to compute. She feels like an idiot and she probably looks like one too. What a way to make a first impression. Now that she finally has the girl's attention, Tobin can't decide whether that's a good thing or a horrible, terrible, no good, very bad one. And now she's quoting movie titles in her head. For the love of God, she begs, is there _any_ room inside her mind for a single coherent thought?!

Her inner monologue does not escape the cutest girl ever. (Tobin decides the moniker needs to end with a ™ from now on!) Also, the girl probably wouldn't mind being called a woman, because she's over twenty five, Tobin guesses, and she's dressed like a college professor. _So hot_ , her mind supplies. And it may not be an intellectual thought, at least it's a coherent one. She'll get there.

Anyway. The cutest girl ever™ is now watching her with the widest, _whitest_ smile. Tobin wonders what kind of toothpaste she uses, because _that_ is apparently the most important thing to think about when someone offers you the most beautiful smile ever. And no, she draws the line here. The Most Beautiful Smile Ever will _not_ get a ™, but it _so_ deserves those capitals.

So, the cutest girl ever™ with The Most Beautiful Smile Ever is still watching and still smiling at her, clearly having fun at her expense. By now, Tobin is starting to regain control over her limbs as well as a few more brain cells. The two combine forces and before she knows it, Tobin is actually moving and only a few steps away from TCE™ with TMBSE. Yeah, yeah, it gets to be a mouthful, okay? Once her brain's firing on all cylinders again, she’ll think of something else to call this cutie pie. Oh, hey! See? Cutie Pie it is.

Coming to a stop at Cutie Pie's side, Tobin prays for the ability to speak intelligent words. Or, you know, _words_. She'll take what she can get. They don't even have to be all that intelligent. Yeah, she's a smart woman — Magna Cum Laude, thank you very much — but there's something about this woman that intimidates her and it's not just her magnificent looks. Her keen eyes speak of a remarkable intelligence, her quick smile and infectious laughter of her enjoyment of life. Tobin feels pulled in by it — by _her_ — but standing in front of this woman, she only feels fear. Of not being smart enough and/or good looking enough to capture and hold her attention and that isn't something that happens a lot to Tobin Heath. She should've left when she still had the chance.

~

She's _so_ effing glad she didn't leave when she still had the chance. Despite a false start, her synapses started firing when it mattered. Hence waking up naked and sore in a strange bed spooning a semi-familiar woman, nose intimately pressed into a mass of rebellious curls. Remembering her job interview, she carefully scoots away from the warm body in front of her, hoping for an easy escape. Last night goes down in history as the single most incredible night of her life. TCE ™ — AKA Christen (last name pending) — has many, _many_ skills. There's an actual list in Tobin's head, made up of things Christen is really good at. Talking is one of them. Talking dirty is another. And then there's that thing she does with her tongue while her fingers push int— 

This is where she stops herself. If she wants to get to that interview on time, she really needs to stop thinking of all the ways this sex goddess knows how to pull orgasms from an overstimulated body. At one point — during another previously unknown magic trick — Tobin spared a nanosecond thinking of her last will and testament, genuinely concerned she wouldn't last the night. Everything about this woman seems perfect and her Momma taught her that if something _seems_ too good to be true, it usually is. From their compelling conversation at the bar to redefining great sex in this very same bedroom, it all seems a little too easy. There has to be a catch and Tobin isn't going to wait around for it to find her.

Slinking out of the bedroom, she sneaks down the stairs with her clothes in one hand and her shoes in the other. The plan is to get dressed in the entryway and to bail right after, but a sound from downstairs throws a mighty wrench in said plan. She only had two more steps to go, dammit! Taking those last steps down, Tobin watches as a light brown pup comes skidding to an abrupt halt in front of her. It's abundantly clear the dog expected another human to come down the stairs. They both freeze. Tobin eyes the dog, the front door, then the dog again. There's no way she's outrunning a dog who, by the looks of her, is no older than three and clearly in the prime of her life. Great. Now what?

The dog sits and stares. She's not barking or growling, making Tobin wonder if this is a common occurrence. How many strangers are coming down these stairs for this dog to act so casual about it? Could this be the catch she wanted nothing to do with? Is Christen a female Don Juan, bringing home the lay of the day whenever it suits her? A part of Tobin adamantly denies the possibility, but she doesn't know anything about the woman upstairs besides the fact that she's the cutest girl ever™ with The Most Beautiful Smile Ever, that she's fun in the sack and that she has a dog that — Tobin hopes — neither barks nor bites. She's still staring, though. And she's making Tobin late.

In the end, all it takes is a baby voice and a scratch behind her ears for the dog to let Tobin go. After a twenty minute sprint across town, an overdue shower and a change of clothes, she's on her way to the bus stop. It'll take her another thirty minutes to get where she's going, giving her ample time to relax a little after her unexpectedly hectic morning. Breathing in deeply, she tries to center herself, pushing back memories of ravenous eyes and soft, capable hands. Regretfully, chances of a repeat are slim, yet Tobin can't help but feel grateful for the experience. It'll take some time to get Christen out of her system, but life will go on. If they ever meet again — if another opportunity should present itself — Tobin will seize it, no questions asked.

The bus ride gives her one last chance to read through the paperwork. She's interviewing for an intern position at a sports magazine as a web content manager. It's a very desirable spot among her peers, but one of her professor's knows someone who knows someone and he made it sound like that would help. She’ll get there on her own merit, though. Magna Cum Laude, remember?

After getting off the bus, she has ten minutes left for a five minute walk. Normally she'd be happy to be able to stretch her legs, but she’s still recovering from this morning's unplanned jog across town, promising her abused body a hot bath and a quiet evening in. The thought alone eases her stress a little and just in time too. Straightening her wide shoulders, she enters the lobby, then strides up to the reception desk with confidence. She's here to see a man about a job.

~

It is, by far, the most interesting meeting she's ever attended. She's being interviewed by Dan, a real nice guy who's in his forties and who looks like everyone's neighbor. He's enthusiastic about his job and he _loves_ to talk about it. In between long tales and anecdotes, he rattles off a couple of questions written on a cheat sheet, but Tobin is starting to think he's not all that interested in what _she_ has to say. It makes her wonder on what grounds he’ll decide to hire her. Or not, of course. She'll just have to sit it out and see what happens.

What happens is this. Dan talks Tobin's ear off for another fifteen minutes. Apparently, being able to listen to Dan talk and talk and talk is the _only_ skill she needs for the job. She's hired on the spot. By Dan. Who's still talking while he escorts her to Karen. From legal. They're married. They have kids. Tobin forgets how many, but one of them is named Kelley and she takes after her father, according to Dan. She's a stunt pilot. Dan is _very_ proud of her.

Karen is a breath of fresh air. She sends Dan back whence he came. Just for that, Tobin already has a soft spot for Karen. Her head is pounding, her ears are bleeding — not really, probably, but she's not ruling it out, either — and she's running out of patience. Thankfully, Karen is no Dan. Karen talks about worker's rights and contracts and money and _that_ is what Tobin wants to hear. She's promised an email with all the information she needs and then Karen takes her to the third floor to meet her team and her new boss. And _now_ she gets a little nervous again.

The moment they step off the elevator, Karen tugs her along to meet her coworkers. There are about fifteen of them, but tonight Tobin will only remember the names Emily, Meghan and Jaelene. She feels iffy about the last one.

Having met all her coworkers, Karen then, not so gently, pushes her towards a closed door. There's no plaque on it, so Tobin has no idea who's behind the big white slab of wood. Probably my boss, her common sense suggests helpfully. It's right and right after being right, it flees the building.

Behind the big white door — behind a big glass desk — sits the cutest girl ever™ with The Most Beautiful Smile Ever. She's on the phone, eyes on the papers on her desk, when Karen waltzes in, one long pointer finger held up to signal she'll be another moment. The second Tobin's eyes find that finger, little drawers in her brain slide open. Those drawers contain pictures. Pictures of last night and what those fingers can do. What they _did_.

She chokes. On air. She needs to get out of there, but how to explain to Karen — sweet, wonderful, professional Karen — that she can't stay. She can't _work_ here. Not like this. Not under _her_. Well, working _under her_ sounds like the best case scenario, but no actual work would get done. Tobin's window to escape gets smaller and smaller. The familiar cadence of Christen's voice fills her ringing ears. She's about to end her phone call, Tobin notices. She panics. This is last night all over again. Help!

Looking up, her new boss’ eyes widen in recognition before she pinkens. The woman deserves an Oscar for her quick recovery, getting up to address Karen and their new intern. Tobin is gaping. Frozen. Like an idiot. Another chance at making a good first impression flushed down the toilet. How does this keep happening?

When a bony elbow catches her third rib from the top, Tobin finally breathes out. She wasn't even aware she was holding her breath. Karen looks between them with suspicious eyes. Do these two know each other? Taking Ms. Press’ blush and Ms. Heath's petrification into account, Karen goes with a solid yes. Interesting. She'll hear what Dan has to say about this.

"Tobin, I'd like you to meet your team leader. This is Christen Press," Karen introduces them, unnecessary as it may seem. She expects Tobin to step forward, offer her new boss a hand in greeting, but the poor soul beside her does neither one of those things. There's an awkward silence, Christen also expecting Tobin to _do_ something. Anything. But nothing happens.

Ever the quick thinker, Christen Press — the cutest girl ever™ with The Most Beautiful Smile Ever — tries to save Tobin’s ass by drawing Karen’s attention back to her. "Not much of a talker, is she, Karen?" Christen jokes before turning her eyes on Tobin.

"Not to worry, Ms. Heath, I think it’s safe to say I’m more of a hands-on type of person myself. I can't wait to show you the ropes.”

What happens is this. Tobin faints. _That's_ what happens.


	4. mission accomplished

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bartender Tobin/patron Christen

The wailing sound of a blues guitar pierces an otherwise silent barroom downtown as its sole occupant sweeps floors and wipes beer stained tables. It's been a long night, but an interesting one and that makes up for a pair of swollen feet and the twitch in her back. She'll be good as new in the morning when she wakes up after a whopping five hours of restless sleep, Tobin thinks to herself. Even her inner voice can't hide the sarcasm in that statement. The thought of getting to do it all over again tomorrow night makes her want to weep right along to Stevie Ray's '63 Fender Strat.

Tobin loves her job. No, really, she does. It's just that some nights earth's entire population appears to be made up of butt holes and they all end up inside her bar somehow. Three of those butt holes were politely taken outside by bouncers Julie and Alyssa when an argument ended in fisticuffs, while the topic of said argument - a beautiful young woman with a stunning smile - couldn't care less about either of those three neanderthals. She'd been having fun with her friends, tracking Tobin all night with those pretty green eyes, something that hadn't escaped the bartender's attention. Their exit hadn't either, Tobin recalls. When she'd looked up from her place behind the bar to find an empty table instead of the three amigas, she'd felt an acute sense of loss. With her friends taking care of their tab, Tobin was robbed of a chance to meet the flirting girl.

Lost in her head, Tobin starts dancing with the broom in her hands, swaying side to side, twirling her wooden dance partner around the tables and empty chairs with practiced ease. This is always the best part of her night. She loves the atmosphere of the bar after hours, blues giants filling the empty room with smoky voices and melancholy tunes. She sings along and moves her tired body to the lazy rhythms of her favorite guitarists, dreaming of one day having someone to share these magical moments with. With a tired sigh, Tobin finishes sweeping, willing away the lingering memory of a certain someone's dazzling smile. With one last look around she goes to turn off the ancient stereo hidden behind the bar when a banging noise stops her in her tracks. Sounds like someone's trying to duke it out with the window pane out front and she really wants to say 'Fuck it!' and beat a well deserved retreat, but what if it's a woman in trouble? Someone who needs medical attention? She won't sleep at all if she doesn't at least check it out. Cursing under her breath, she finds her way to the window. When she sees who's out there, she can't move fast enough to unlock the door and let in her unexpected visitor, adrenaline waking her up in the most welcome of ways.

When the heavy oak door opens, Tobin's greeted by apologetic eyes and a guilty smile. It's the pretty girl from earlier. The one the boys fought over. The one distracting Tobin from doing her job properly - something that doesn't happen all that often - and the one starring in her little fantasy just now, truth be told. She opens the door wider in invitation, breath catching when the other woman brushes past her through the narrow entrance way. Tobin refuses to acknowledge the tingling parts of her body where they touch, grateful that the moment passes by quickly. She blames exhaustion for the surge in emotions, but deep down inside she knows she's kidding herself. There's one reason only why her heart beats in overdrive and it's this woman walking in front of her. It's in her looks and in her smiles and in the way she wears those skinny jeans with that leather jacket. The pile of curls framing her face. The lumpy shoes on her feet. The lingering scent of her expensive perfume, teasing Tobin into thoughts of trailing the tip of her nose up the warm skin of a tan neck, trying to find the source of that dizzying fragrance. She has to literally shake her head to rid it of improper thoughts, shame filling her at having such invasive daydreams about a complete stranger. Said stranger is now standing still in the middle of Tobin's blues bar, taking in the after hours atmosphere before turning around to face her hostess.

The first thought entering Tobin's mind is how someone can look that good in the bleak glow of fluorescent lighting. The second thought is cut off by the woman's voice uttering soft spoken words and then her third thought is how lovely her voice is. Her fourth thought should probably be how her sleep addled brain makes her see the stranger through rose colored glasses, because there's not a single thing about this otherworldly being that's anything less than gorgeous. Even the little crinkle between her eyebrows seems to just fit this woman and her now bemused features. Expectant eyes tell Tobin it's her turn to talk, but she didn't pay attention to anything else but the delicious curve of a bow shaped upper lip and how it curled so perfectly around certain letters and syllables. Those very distracting lips stretch into a knowing smirk, cheekily informing Tobin that her mental detour is picked up on. Wonderful. Her God turns out to be a merciful one, because the woman's lips are moving again, repeating the words without Tobin having to ask.

"I said I'm sorry to disturb you, but my phone is missing and I was hoping to find it here", the sweet voice tells her. "I think I had it on me when we showed up here earlier." Tobin nods in understanding, having caught enough words to get a grip on why this Californian cuteness is keeping her from her much needed z's. Not that she's complaining. She'll gladly lose a few hours of sleep if it means she gets to spend that time in the company of this unexpected pleasure.

"Haven't found it," Tobin tells her, tacking on an apology for good measure. Slender shoulders drop in disappointment as vibrant green irises seem to shift to a heart-stopping grey. Tobin actually feels that shift like a punch to the gut, pressing her hands against her belly to settle the turmoil there. Sheesh, what is this woman doing to her? "Do you want me to call you an Uber?" Tobin offers, not knowing what else to say or do.

Dark curls move when the woman shakes her head no. "This may sound incredibly stupid," she offers, "but I tucked my house key and my money in with my phone, so there's no way I'm sleeping in my own bed tonight".

Tobin knows she doesn't mean anything by it, but sweet Lord, the images those words conjure up and they're not even of the smutty kind. She imagines waking up to sleep filled eyes, arms wrapped around the slim waist of a warm body pressed against her own. Of all the fantasies to have about this woman, her brain chooses to pick the one where they actually sleep together. What is it about this woman?

"Is it okay if I use your phone to call a friend I can stay with?"

The question effectively cuts off her inappropriate train of thoughts. Tobin pulls her phone from her front pocket before unlocking it and handing it over. She watches as long fingers operate her trusty (rusty!) iPhone. It's an older model but it works and that - according to Tobin - is the most important feature. When the device is brought up to one of those cute little ears, Tobin turns away, offering as much privacy as she can. The room isn't big enough for her to completely block out the conversation, something she's entirely too happy about when she finally learns her visitor's name.

"Hey, it's Christen. Sorry to wake you up, but I need a place to stay for the night." Tobin does her best to look busy, but her eyes keep finding the woman now known as Christen. Fiddling with the stereo behind the bar - turning down the volume, changing one cd for another - she tries to keep her trembling hands occupied. With Joe Bonamassa's voice calming her nerves, she dares look Christen's way again, only then noticing she's being watched as well by curious eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm safe," Tobin hears her say, nodding when a raised eyebrow silently asks after the truth in that statement. "Okay, Lindsey. Yeah, Tobin’s Blues Bar. See you soon. Thanks again. Bye!" Pressing the end call button, Christen makes her way back to Tobin. The bartender's phone is carefully placed on the gleaming wooden surface of the counter between them with Christen offering thanks. Tobin waves it away, as well as the apology that follows. 

"Sorry to keep you up. My friend is picking me up in about fifteen minutes. I'll be out of your hair soon."

"Don't worry about it," Tobin soothes. "It's no trouble, I promise."

The look of disbelief on Christen's face is almost comical. "I can't imagine you enjoy losing sleep over this, but I'll take your word for it." It's followed by the sweetest smile and it renders Tobin useless, causing a silence to stretch between them. It's not uncomfortable per se, but she can't imagine this'll stay doable for another thirteen minutes. Picking up on the music in the background, she hears herself speak before her filter kicks in.

"Would you like to dance?" she blurts out, eyes pointedly skipping over the surprised figure leaning against the counter. "We don't have to," she immediately offers an out, appalled at herself for being so awkward about the whole thing. How weird is it to ask a complete stranger for a dance in a closed bar with four fluorescent tubes casting the room in the most unappealing shades of white light? Where did her game go? Dropping her head in shame, she misses the way green eyes light up in amusement.

"I'd love to," Christen eagerly accepts, chuckling when wide brown eyes finally focus on her person again.

"Really?" Tobin can't help but ask.

"Really," she confirms, grinning back when she's treated to a bright smile in return for accepting Tobin's offer.

The music changes from something fast to something soulful. Christen doesn't know the song, but its cadence is filled with the promise of something slow. Something intense. And isn't this exactly what she'd been wishing for all night long, catching Tobin's eye, hoping for something more than fleeting instances of eye contact and a few flirty smiles. If she's honest with herself, tonight's playlist had fueled quite a few fantasies of being held by the captivating woman sneaking glances at her from behind the bar. The very same woman now standing in front of her with a nervous smile on her handsome face.

Tobin steps into her, one hand held out in invitation, asking Christen to trust her. Taking the proffered hand in one of her own, Christen pulls them even closer together, no longer questioning whatever this is. She brings up their entwined hands to rest on her sternum, trapping them there while her other hand finds its way up a strong back, resting comfortably between prominent shoulder blades.

The sultry tones of Philip Sayce's 'Alchemy' create a bubble of intimacy. They dance together like they've been doing it for years, bodies so finely attuned it should scare them. It feels good, though. Tobin's this close to test her theory on Christen's perfume, driven to madness by the nails softly scratching up and down her back. It's so much better than any fantasy she's ever had about this exact moment. The woman in her arms exceeds her wildest dreams and all Tobin wants is to keep her when dawn breaks, not yet knowing that Christen feels the exact same way.

Out front of Tobin's Blues Bar, a blonde woman peeks inside wearing a satisfied grin. After moving out of sight, she opens her phone, finds her most recent thread and starts typing.

 **[** You and your crazy plans, Sonnett! It actually worked! **]**

The response is immediate.

 **[** YES! Stop doubting me and my insanity, Horan! Now let me sleep. **]**

On the other side of town, one Emily Ann Sonnett runs a lap around her apartment, Christen's light pink iPhone held up in victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! If you did, I'd love to hear about it. I'm on Tumblr as well. Feel free to visit me there with asks, encouragement, constructive criticism and/or prompts. Hope to see you there!


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